


The Cruelty of Morpheus

by historical_ramblings



Category: Turn (TV 2014)
Genre: M/M, Nightmares, decapitation but it's in a dream which is why i didn't tag character death, there's a fluffy ending i promise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-03
Updated: 2017-02-03
Packaged: 2018-09-21 17:30:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9559715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/historical_ramblings/pseuds/historical_ramblings
Summary: Based on Grumblebee's Spoils of War universe. If you haven't read it, do. It's amazing.King Washington, several years into a finally-loving marriage to Benjamin Tallmadge, has a nightmare about one of the events that led to their meeting.





	1. The Nightmare

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Spoils of War](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9549539) by [grumblebee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/grumblebee/pseuds/grumblebee). 



The sounds of heavy footsteps echoed as the king made his way to his chambers. It had been a very long day on very little sleep for King Washington, and he was more than relieved to have it behind him. 

 

It was finally time to get some blessed  _ rest _ . Something he hadn’t been able to do in far too long. Hopefully he’d be able to sleep the whole night through with his husband in his arms. 

 

His poor husband, who he’d stolen from his home and his family…

 

He forcibly directed his thoughts elsewhere. 

 

The new stable being built on the castle grounds. His plans to dig a pond in the private castle gardens. 

 

Anything to avoid the guilt he faced every time Ben went quiet as he looked homeward over the mountains, or gazed almost wistfully at an emerald ring or a lady’s green gown at court. 

 

He knew well how stoic his Benjamin was by now, and so he knew that his darling husband must be distraught indeed to react even as subtly as he had to the mere sight of one of his own family colors.

 

So entrenched was George in his own thoughts that he almost walked right past the door to his own chambers. He took a deep breath to steady himself and opened the door. 

 

He was greeted with a beautiful sight. His husband, his darling Benjamin, sleeping peacefully between the blue silk sheets. He’d practically burrowed under the covers, one hand holding the warm, soft blankets up close around his chin.  The other arm was up over his eyes. His hair was mussed from turning his head to get comfortable. His perfect face was lax with sleep. George had never seen anyone more gorgeous.

 

George couldn’t keep his eyes away from the sight of his sleeping husband for long, even as he stripped and climbed into bed next to him.

 

In almost no time at all, he was asleep with his arms around his husband.

 

George opened his eyes with a start. The sounds of battle were distant. Distant and quickly fading. He knew this place. His command tent. This was a memory. A nightmare. 

 

Oh, he remembered this day. He would give anything not to.

 

The oldest Tallmadge boy, Prince Samuel, and his soldiers had fought hard and bloody, but in the end he was vastly outnumbered by Washington’s men. 

 

The last news he’d heard had said that Samuel had been captured, along with a few dozen men, whilst trying to hold a bridge for what remained of his army to flee across. 

 

He had felt a pang of begrudging admiration for the boy that day. He was brave, and had shown no small amount of tactical intelligence in the battle. 

 

The only thought he remembered having about the matter was that it was almost unfortunate what would have to come next.

 

If George could have, he would have stood up, walked out of the tent, and ordered all his men to turn around and go home. Let the Tallmadge prince go back to his castle. 

 

But he couldn’t move. He was a hostage in his own body. Unable to even wiggle his toes. All he could do was watch.

 

As if mocking these very thoughts, he felt himself stand up at the sound of footsteps approaching. Mixed in with the even footfalls were the sounds of dragging feet and the occasional grunt of effort.

_ No. Please no. Please please please no. He doesn’t deserve this. No no no.  _

But no amount of pleading on George’s part could stop what he knew was to come. Nor could it stop the dread building in his heart.

 

In came Samuel Tallmadge, being dragged by the arms by a pair of burly men in bloodstained blue. His breeches were spattered with mud almost up to the knee and he had a nasty gash right across his collarbone, but he held his chin as high as he would if he were in the finest silks sitting at court. Some of his hair had come out of its braid and fallen over his face.

 

_ This is a brave man. And soon a dead man. He must be terrified. God, he looks so much like Benjamin. _

 

“Samuel Tallmadge”, George heard his own voice sneer, cold and biting. “Is this how your people dress to welcome visitors? I’m quite insulted.”

 

“You are no  _ visitor  _ here. You have proven that quite well already” Samuel replied curtly.

 

“Is that so? Perhaps we can remedy that. I’ve still not received my invitation to the Feast of Kings. If I had one, I could be on my merry way” Washington retorted. He felt his weight shift so that he could rest his hand on the hilt of his sword.

 

“Doesn’t that sound wonderful? You and I could put this unpleasantness behind us and we could both return safely to our homes.” 

 

He circled around Samuel like a shark and felt his face break into a smirk.

 

“Not feeling chatty today? Oh dear. You  _ do  _ want to go home, don’t you, little prince?” Washington jeered.

 

“Those invitations are not in my power to give. And besides, any man who would wage war over an invitation to a summit celebrating peace clearly does not deserve to be there.” Samuel said, with as much conviction and strength in his voice as he could muster.

 

_ Oh, you poor boy. You poor, brave boy. You really do remind me of Benjamin. Such a spirit and heart as yours deserved to live. I’m so sorry. _

 

“How unfortunate that you feel that way. You men, bring him outside. To the hill.” Washington said with a sudden venom that had been hidden before.

 

_ My god, is that really what I sound like? So...cruel? _

 

The two large men hauled Samuel unceremoniously out of the tent. He wriggled and struggled all the way to the top of the hill but it did no good. They held him firmly between them in iron grips.

 

Washington trailed a few feet behind, walking slowly, grinning, sword in hand.

 

When they crested the hill, George immediately remembered why it had been chosen. It was the highest point for leagues. His whole army would be able to see when Samuel died. The remaining Tallmadge forces would certainly see it as well. 

 

At a gesture to the guards, Samuel was forced down to his knees in the mud. He kept his chin high and his expression defiant. 

 

_ A Tallmadge to the last. I’m so, so sorry, Samuel.  _

 

“ _ Prince _ Samuel Tallmadge, You and your house are guilty of unforgivable offences against me. Have you any last words?”

 

“The spirit of this kingdom shall never yield, not for any tyrant or conqueror. Even if you succeed in this mad conquest, you will find this land will not change. It’s spirit does not break. Neither shall ours.” 

 

_ How right you were. The Tallmadges and their kingdom have changed me far more than I could ever change them. If only I had been wiser.  _ Those words. This memory. He would never be able to forget them. Would never be rid of them. He winced along with the stoic prince when one of the guards reached behind Samuel’s head and grabbed a handful of his hair. 

 

Only it was suddenly not Samuel anymore, but Benjamin. The changes were subtle but definitely present. It was in the shape of the nose, the chin, the jawline. The lighter color of the hair. 

_ No. NO NO NO NO NO NO.  _ This had gone from terrible to horrifying. The memory of Samuel’s death was one he faced on a near-daily basis. Upsetting but not new. But confronted with this image of Ben in his place, in torn dirty clothes, on his knees in the mud and trying to remain stoic even with tears trying to form in his eyes, George could not even form a coherent thought. He could only scream and shout and try with all his might to  _ stop this _ . It did no good.

 

The guard yanked roughly on Ben’s hair, bending his neck forward and holding it there.

 

Washington’s blade came up.

 

And then it came down.

 

Ben’s body collapsed, detached from his neck. It landed with a sick splat, splattering whatever was left of the Tallmadge green after the bloody beheading with mud.

 

The guard held up his head with a triumphant grin. George felt the smirk grow on his face without his consent. 

 

_ No. Ben. It can’t be Ben. Please god no. Oh god I’m going to be sick. No no no no no _

 

And then George remembered what inevitably came next. “Give me his head. I think it’s time young Tallmadge returned home. You can put the body with the rest of them”

 

Obediently, the guard gave Washington the head. This close, George could see the eyes glazed over, that perfect face contorted into a permanent, silent scream.

  
_Benjamin…_


	2. The Waking

“Shh. Shh. It’s okay, I’ve got you.”

 

But...that was Ben’s voice? How?

 

“You’re okay. I’m here. It’s alright”

 

Again he heard the voice of a dead man.

 

And then awoke.

 

“George? Thank god you’re awake. You were having a nightmare”

 

Ben had managed to pull George up against his chest somehow. George must have started crying at some point in the nightmare because his cheeks and Ben’s chest were soaked completely with tears.

 

Still George felt nothing but joy at hearing his husband’s voice and feeling his hands rub soothing circles on his back.

 

“Ben! Oh god you’re alive i’m so sorry please forgive me i’m sorry i’m so so so sorry you shouldn’t have had to marry a cold-hearted monster like me” George managed to babble through the tears.

 

“Cold-hearted monster? What lies are these?” Ben asked sternly. “It was not a monster who wove flowers into my hair before I woke this morning. It was not a monster who told me I looked stunning as we walked to breakfast. It was the man I love who did those things. You are no monster, dearest.”

 

George said nothing, only burrowed down further into the covers and laid his head against Ben’s chest.

 

Ben’s heartbeat was a comfort, each one reminding him that his husband was  _ there  _ and  _ alive  _ and holding him as he drifted into dreamless sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to grumblebee for letting me play in your sandbox
> 
> find me on tumblr @historical-ramblings
> 
> feedback fuels my soul


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